The Asset Report: A Rebel's Tale
by Erma W
Summary: A new recruit is assigned to observe Han Solo. Sure, he has a great ass-et... but he also IS an asset. He's a good guy; he's a hero. Inspired by a tumblr post, this silly bit of fun responds to the question "If you were a new recruit on a rebel base, what would your job be, and how would you interact with Han, Leia, and/or Luke?" Thanks to some Han/Leia friends for joining the fun!
1. Chapter 1

_This was originally published on AO3 on Feb 4, 2018, and on tumblr around the same time, and is finally making its way here to FFN._

 **Author's note:** Thanks to lajulie and JennyCBS for posing some questions, and thereby inspiring this bit of fun!

Thanks to imnothere24 (also known as GracieCatFamilyBand on tumblr), JainaDurron, JennyCBS, justinegraham, and smugglerofsass, for allowing me to include you in the fun! Your own ideas for what job you might have on base, and how you might interact with our intrepid trio of heroes, were great fun to read. Hope I've done justice to your ideas, and hope you enjoy your cameo appearances!

Finally, because why not: the Captain Derlin mentioned here will later be The Empire Strikes Back's Major Derlin. In the film, Derlin is portrayed by John Ratzenberg, who would later go on to fame in Cheers, and as a character voice actor in Pixar films. Cheers, of course, is where "everybody _knows your name_." And as a character actor, well, _he's everywhere_ ; even if you don't see him, _you can hear his voice_.

Image credit: The awesome image used for the story was found here: wiki/Alliance_to_Restore_the_Republic/Legends , and was contributed by the Star Wars wiki user "Razzy1319."

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 **Chapter 1: A Rebel's Tale**

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The cavernous hanger overflowed with activity. Speeders zoomed in all directions. Repair crews banged metal tools against metal ships. Voices crackled to life over the loudspeakers. Personnel buzzed like insects. When I had gone off to join the Rebellion, I had hoped to find it was real and not just a story, but never could I have imagined that it would be both real and so very _alive_.

I shifted my attention back to Captain Graham, the officer tasked with signing in the new recruits. She gathered a small pile of clothes and a piece of flimsi, and turned towards me.

"All right then, Erma Ficwriter," she said, holding my gaze with intensity. My heart raced; this was it.

"Welcome to the Rebellion."

My heart soared.

Captain Graham smiled as she handed me the pile. "OK then, so your basics are here. You're expected to wear it when you're on duty. We can only give you one uniform for now, but once you get assigned to a unit we'll get you the rest of your kit." She gave a furtive glance towards the clothes. "Just, uh…" She paused, as if considering whether or not to let me in on some delicious secret. "Look, I'm in charge of the laundry, so let me warn you: something's up with the auto-valets. They shrink clothes sometimes. So, you might want to take care of your own laundry until you get the rest of your kit, got it?"

I nodded. Not quite the secret I was expecting, but then again, maybe I'd find out more later.

She continued; if my excitement was obvious, she didn't seem to notice. "Give that," she pointed to the flimsi, "to Captain Derlin. He's probably in the command center, but if not, just keep asking around for him, you'll find him." She chuckled. "He's a character, that Derlin. Has a way of being everywhere. Even if you don't see him, you can usually hear his voice. Really good at remembering people, too; can always remember your name." She grew serious again. "Anyways, he'll get you set up with the assessments and what not so we can get you into the right unit."

She paused her instructions, and regarded me with friendly curiosity. "Any ideas how you want to serve? What are you good at?" Ready to dive into the good fight, I began listing off my skills, going through the varied list of professional and personal experiences and hobbies… when something caught my eye…

Or rather, when _someone_ caught my eye. A tall human male, wearing dark colored trousers marked by red piping along the side seams, a light colored shirt rakishly unbuttoned to mid-chest, a dark utility vest, and shiny black boots. His eyes smouldered, his jawline begged to be touched, and that hair… His long legs carried his lean body in a languid saunter that implied confidence, maybe danger, and definitely _sex_. He walked past us, headed towards some other destination. With his back turned, those dark trousers looked even better, perfectly framing his as-

A chuckle interrupted my thoughts, and my cheeks immediately erupted in flames. I turned back to Graham, completely chagrined by my undisciplined reaction. This was a war, and I had _just_ signed up. Already I was distracted by a good looking guy?

But the face that greeted my embarrassment was only kind, and certainly amused-and maybe a bit conspiratorial? "Don't worry. That's a common reaction. Yeah, we're fighting a war, but hey, we're still alive, right?"

I smiled, slightly relieved. "I guess so. Who was that?"

"Oh, that's, Han. Captain Solo. Runs his own ship. He hasn't officially signed up, but... Well, he's only been around a few months, and we're all hoping he sticks around. He tries to make us think otherwise, but he's a good guy."

"Why would he leave?"

"He's a smuggler. 'pparently he's got some business he needs to settle, but..."

That was a surprise. A smuggler? I mean, I knew we were all considered criminals now since we'd joined the Rebellion, but I'd always thought that people willing to smuggle were a particularly questionable group. My inclination for analysis was kicking into gear. "Is that common, to hire smugglers? How can you maintain security if you're hiring freelancers? Wouldn't that impact the Alliance's cash flow?"

Graham's eyebrows raised. "You know, the rumor is that a lot of the higher ups have been asking the same things. Sounds to me like you've got a good idea in the works. You be sure to mention those research-type skills of yours to Derlin; maybe you can put them to use. Help with a cost-benefit analysis or something." She smirked. "You know: study the Alliance's assets by studying Solo's _ass_...ets?"

My cheeks grew red again. "Sure, I'll mention that. I think I could conduct that sort of observation." No point trying to hide the smile. "We do what we can, right?"

Graham grinned in reply, but quickly sobered. "Just make sure you look at the whole picture, yeah? He may seem questionable, but he really is a good guy."

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And that's how it came to pass that my first few weeks as a rebel were spent in close proximity to Han Solo, Captain of the Millennium Falcon, and reluctant hero of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, all for the purpose of preparing an assets report. Frankly, it didn't seem like the best use of a new recruit-but who was I to argue against an assignment to keep my eye on his ass… uh, ass _ets_ … I mean, to observe him so I could help assess how the Alliance was managing its assets?

At first, things were incredibly awkward. He was, well, _gorgeous_ , which made it tough to observe him with any semblance of impartiality. But the bigger issues were that _he_ was insulted the Alliance was having him shadowed, and _I_ felt horribly intrusive just following him around everywhere. Hours after I greeted him and explained I would be observing him in order to help improve base operations, he stopped dead in his tracks, whirled around with his finger pointed uncomfortably close to my nose, and asked me in no uncertain terms why I was _really_ there. And frankly, despite the awkwardness, despite the finger in my face, I knew he deserved honesty. So I leveled with him. I explained I was there to observe _him_ , and to help determine whether he was an asset the Alliance should continue managing. For a moment, he looked shocked, affronted-but then he just smirked, and sneered. _An asset, huh? So you're here to watch my_ ass _ets? It's a damned good_ ass _et, too._ Though I couldn't disagree, being the immediate target of his sarcasm made it easier to show my exasperation.

Soon, the awkwardness was replaced by something a little more antagonistic. He wasn't mean exactly, but he was clearly trying to make things hard for me. Giving me the slip. Throwing irritable comments my way. At some point he even plopped down on a stack of crates, leaned back against the rest of the stack, and just sat there, all defiant bravado, staring at me while I tried to watch him…just staring at me... _for nearly 30 minutes!_ The first few minutes were really uncomfortable, then for awhile it was funny. But finally, I decided I needed to break my stance of impartial observer and patiently point out that sitting around just staring at Alliance personnel might not be considered effective management of Alliance assets. He rolled his eyes… but he stood up and went back to work.

Things began to improve pretty quickly after that. Eventually, he accepted me. He started making comments here and there about his ship, or his copilot, or the complexities of navigating interstellar space when you can't stick to established routes. He didn't take me under his wing, but neither did he take advantage of the situation and treat me like his personal audience. He just accepted me into his space, and made room for me in it.

Soon, other personnel began to join us from time to time, and he accepted them, too. Some just hung out for a chat, others stayed to swap stories. And there was always laughter; lots of laughter. Another new recruit had found a role as base photographer, documenting the daily life of base personnel. Though Solo still wasn't pleased about being watched, let alone photographed, he invited and accepted her into the space as well. He got the biggest kick out of her nickname, Smuggler of Sass, and always loved hollering it out whenever she came by. For someone who acted like he was only interested in himself, Solo sure knew how to make fast friends.

After awhile, his _ass_ et became less important to me as I began to appreciate the _asset_ he truly was to the Alliance. It was increasingly difficult to remain impartial, or just an observer. Captain Graham had been absolutely right: Solo was a good guy.

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My posting as Observer of _Ass_ ets didn't last long. It became pretty clear pretty quickly that the benefit of keeping Solo around was far greater than the cost. Of course, I'm sure my report didn't factor into the Alliance's decision nearly as much as the continued support of Princess Organa, but I still like to think my work was at least a little helpful. We do what we can, right?

Before long, I was posted to an analyst position in Operations. It was a good assignment, even if it was away from the hustle and bustle: dreams of derring do aside, I wouldn't have been much of a foot soldier. Still, Solo and I kept bumping into each other. I'll never forget the day I saw Solo walking down a corridor, looking uncomfortable but trying to hide it. Eventually, I got him to admit-in a hushed voice, and through a pained expression of barely concealed paranoia-that he thought someone might have it out for him, was trying to get to him somehow, that he would swear something was up because his pants always came back from the laundry too tight. I tried my hardest to keep my Sabacc face-enough time had passed that Captain Graham eventually let me in on the rest of her laundry secret-but his game was too strong. He got me to admit-while trying to catch my breath from laughing so hard-that Captain Graham had been shrinking his pants on purpose. _Hey,_ I protested, _a lot of people on base appreciate your_ ass _ets!_ He looked horror-stricken for a brief moment, before he too burst out in laughter. I later heard that Solo had started giving Graham the stink-eye whenever he saw her after that, but truth be told, he enjoyed it.

A couple of years after Yavin, I was transferred to a different base and lost touch with Solo. I heard plenty of stories about him, though. He invited our favorite mechanic, Jenny CBS (never knew what the cbs stood for, but that's how nicknames go around bases), to tinker a bit on the Falcon. He knew GracieCat, the base's official unofficial shrink, kept making space for Her Highness, so he did what he could to encourage the Princess to keep her appointments. It didn't work, but GracieCat appreciated the effort. And of course there was the story going around about a night on Hoth when Solo and Skywalker were caught out in the cold. It was never clear whether the story was rumor or fact, but the story goes that Jaina D, who normally kept a low profile assisting Princess Organa in meetings and taking notes, chewed out the deck officer on duty for being a coward, then marched straight out into the cold Hoth night-with the Princess!-to save Solo and Skywalker from freezing to death! And of course, there was the awful business with the bounty hunter. It didn't matter that the Alliance was based in different locations; the news of Solo's capture and encasement in carbonite spread through the troops like wildfire. If it shattered all of our morale, I could only imagine what Chewbacca, Skywalker, and of course, Her Highness, were going through. The later news of Solo's rescue and good health spread just as quickly.

Frankly, I think the fact that Solo was rescued, and that he was all right, was a huge factor in the hopeful and determined mindset that helped see us through Endor. Skywalker and Organa, even though they never put on airs or thought themselves better than any of the rest of us, sometimes seemed untouchable; mythical, even. Those two started out heroic, and couldn't help the heroic quality just pouring out of them. Solo though-he was one of us, touchable in a way that even Skywalker never quite managed. Now, he was heroic, no doubt. But he didn't start out that way. He started off a known criminal, his character and trustworthiness questioned by all. We saw him start out selfish, and gradually change for the better. We saw him grow. We saw him form strong friendships. We saw him love, and be loved. And we saw the mythical heroes care enough about him to risk everything for him. If he could grow as he did, and make it out of carbonite and Jabba's lair, well, here was hope for the rest of us.

Solo wasn't just a good guy. He was a _damned_ good guy.

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"Erma!"

I turned from my glass to see Han heading my way, making his way through the crowd, a grin plastered on his face. The guests had long ago given up on waiting calmly at their assigned seats around the banquet hall tables, and had begun to fill the dance floor, or head to the bar, or just mill around catching up with one another. Everyone here knew someone, having served with each other at some point in the past... but that had been years ago. It was a wonderful treat to be assembled together again, and for such a happy occasion too.

"Han!" He was still grinning as he came closer, and I finally got a good look at him. The post-war years had been peaceful, though certainly tough: maintaining peace was no stroll through a meadow. But the years had been kind to him; he looked as good as he ever had.

"Congratulations, man," I said, as we gave each other the kind of hug only long-lost friends can give. "Thirty-five years…!" I shook my head in amazement

Han grabbed a glass himself. "Yeah, well. What can I say? My luck held out." He looked over to Her Highness-his _wife_ -clearly also as deeply in love as he'd ever been.

I grinned. "I'm happy for you, my friend. Thirty-five years is a long time to stay married. And look at you two! Still going strong."

He smiled at me, a thoughtful, kind look in his eyes. After receiving the invite to his and Leia's anniversary gala, Han and I had caught up a bit on the last 30 years. "Well, you know how it is. It's not always easy, but when you love each other…" he trailed off, waving his hand in the air, saying more in that hand wave than any words alone could do. I nodded. I did know.

He straightened suddenly, pulling himself out of his reverie. "But hey, where's this partner of yours?" He made a show of searching the crowd. "I want to meet the guy who passed Erma's _ass_ ets check…"

Just like old times. I dissolved into laughter. "I don't know, Solo, you might get envious." He pulled his trademark _who, me?_ look, then grinned. But that did remind me…

"Han, seriously. I, uh…" As I gathered my thoughts, he regarded me quietly, and patiently; age, or love and family and friends, had softened him. "About that report," I began, "the assets report…"

That took him by surprise, but I just smiled. "Hey, don't get any ideas, we know you _have_ a great _ass_ -et," he smiled indulgently "but, look: you may not hear this enough these days, but you _are_ a great asset, too."

 _That_ gave him pause, but I marched on. "I know you said these new holodramas coming out about the Alliance years don't bother you, which is great. But if we don't get a chance to talk much again, I want you know something, and I wanted to tell you face to face: they _do_ bother a lot of the rest of us, and we're going to do what we can to keep the truth alive."

A shadow crossed his features as I continued. "We see it, Solo. People that should know better are forgetting the past, or at least, forgetting some very important parts about the past. And that's not going to fly for a lot of us. Sure, every generation needs its stories of heroes and princesses and knights and good guys and bad guys-but they don't need to tear down the old heroes to tell stories of their own. You were an integral part of our generation's story-" he started to protest "-no, Han, you were. Not only that, you were part of a change in how these stories were told: we won because of _hope_ , because of _love_. You turning around at Yavin? That business with the defecting parts dealer? All those things you'd bring back to base for us that you bought with the credits we lost to you at Sabacc? You risking your neck to keep Skywalker alive on Hoth? Volunteering for Endor? You weren't just an asset, Han. You were a damned good guy."

He was overcome. "Erma…"

I laughed; the poor guy never had been comfortable with praise or gratitude. "Nah, don't worry Solo. We're your friends. We're not going to say this sort of thing to you too often. It'll just go to your head." He smiled and relaxed, grateful for the reprieve. We chatted for a few more minutes, swapping jokes and teasing each other.

Then I delivered my final report. "Seriously, though, Solo, you're the real deal. And however these future generations try to spin your story, well, we won't forget." I started listing off the old crew. "Captain Graham? Smuggler of Sass? Jenny CBS? GracieCat? Plus a whole lot of us others?" He nodded, finding their faces either in the assembled crowd or in his memory. "We won't forget. We're doing what we can to keep the stories alive. That's the final report, Han, the final asset report."

He looked at me, his green-gold eyes as open as his heart.

"You, Han Solo, are more than a good guy. You were-you _are_ -a hero."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:** This part is less silly fun, and more personal. Whether it's Troy Denning's "The Crucible" or these new Disney movies, thinking about the end of our OT heroes is hard. It is for me, anyways. So, my dear Han/Leia friends, thank you for your inspiration and gracious cameos in the previous part of this tale. For this epilogue, though, I will not presume to include or exclude you, nor should any reader assume you agreed to be included in this part as well. This epilogue is purely my own "taking your broken heart and turning it into art."

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 **Chapter 2: Epilogue**

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Han accepted my final asset report with a silent, solemn, heartfelt nod, then we moved the conversation onto other topics. He would never admit it-at least not to me-but I think he was genuinely comforted to know there were still a few of us willing to fight for him, to keep the truths about those years alive.

Eventually, my partner returned, then the three of us made our way over to Leia. The four of us chatted for longer still, recalling old times and catching up on new. Finally, though, it was time to part ways, and we reluctantly said our farewells. Han and Leia headed off to talk with the few remaining guests, and my partner and I headed back to our accommodations.

Han and I continued to exchange messages over time. The easy joke here and there, the celebratory greetings, the quick catch ups. But, as naturally happens, we eventually lost touch.

I never saw him again.

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As the years went by, more and more new stories appeared, each claiming to capture something of those times long, long ago. Some of the stories got it right. Others fell victim to the sensibilities and audience demands of their day: nitty gritty, human drama, _there are no heroes_ , and all of that. But no worries; a few of us kept the truth alive, passing on stories of what really happened in those Alliance days, stories showing the true nature of our heroes. I tried to do my part in passing on those stories, too. Of course, I'm sure my stories didn't factor into the survival of the truth nearly as much as the stories told far more eloquently and engagingly by many of my friends, but I still like to think my work was at least a little helpful.

We do what we can, right?

Here's to hope and love.

May the Force be With You.

Always.


End file.
